


As pretty does

by withered



Series: Liars [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Slice of Life, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: Ichigo takes her to an art gallery on a date because he’s actually the most pretentious punk to ever exist. Rukia isn't really complaining.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Liars [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1295714
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	As pretty does

**Author's Note:**

> For anon who requested something inspired by Lorde's "The Louvre".
> 
> So this actually fits into both "Modern Romance" and "Liar, Liar", but I figured since "Liar, Liar" already had a collection for additions, it would fit better. 
> 
> This would, however, explain the gallery instagram photo in "Modern Romance" so whichever floats your boat.

Ichigo takes her to an art gallery on a date because he’s actually the most pretentious punk to ever exist.

But it’s her own fault, really. Rukia’s been telling him since their whole _thing_ started that he’s a masterpiece, a Michelangelo, a David. “He hated sculpting,” Ichigo complained, and she’d tapped him on the nose and said, “That’s the point.”

Tracing her fingertips along the swell of his pectorals Rukia reminded, “Michelangelo was pissed off when he got commissioned to create it, and got given a crappy piece of marble to work with on top of that. But he still created one of the most beautiful statues anyway. Have you seen the close ups of that thing? I swear his hand is seconds away from curling fully into a fist to start swinging.”

Ichigo huffed out a breath, mouth twitching into a smirk as if to say _and you call me pretentious,_ and asked, “And what does that have to do with me?”

Her smile turned mischievous. “Because just like the David, you exist with beautiful spiteful intent.”

And because men don’t get told they’re beautiful nearly often enough, Ichigo’s cheeks heat and he’s looking away in embarrassment, arm flexing as he reaches back to tug at the nape of his neck as he half-heartedly complains that _he isn’t_. All of which just makes Rukia grin, pull herself up to eye-level and kiss the words from his lips.

Ichigo assumes that she means the comparison in a sexual context because David is after all, naked as the day he was born.

But she still feels that way about him when she’s watching Ichigo wander the gallery, giving more attention to the rectangular silver plates beneath the paintings than the paintings himself, his brows are furrowed in concentration and mouth slanting in an absent frown. 

The rest of the gallery visitors give them a wide berth.

Ichigo’s dressed in dark jeans and a dark sweater; the sharp angles of his tanned face are a sharp contrast to the blindingly white room, and the delicate slim golden frames of the displays. In his heavy combat boots and his dark brown winter trench coat, his presence fills the empty spaces, but his steps are staggered to keep her in his orbit despite the usual length in his strides. He keeps one hand in his pocket, the other in hers, and every now and again he catches her eye – golden as sunsets and warm as honey.

His mouth dips into something between a frown and a smile. “You’re not even looking at the art," is his nearly petulant observation.

With a meaningful look, Rukia tells him, “Yeah I am.” And only once his ears have pinked in realization does she stride off, pulling him along to follow as she leads him through the exhibits with the history of her favorite pieces pulled from memory.

She's probably boring him. Ichigo knows nothing about art beyond the ones he's chosen to grace his skin. But as always, he seems content to listen, to be led along.

Her rambles cut abruptly when he presses a kiss against her cheek, and he shoots her an arch look, lifts a brow and prompts, "You were saying?"

"You're impossible," she tells him, rolling her eyes even as her cheeks flush.

Ichigo’s always told her that he doesn’t know enough about art to appreciate it, but Rukia thinks if he were to look at the displays with even a quarter of the intensity that he looks at her, he might.


End file.
